


Like a Ken Doll

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Awesome Sam, Comeplay, Community: homebrewbingo, Embarrassment, Fingerfucking, Gender Issues, Hurt Castiel, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Purgatory, Schmoop, Season/Series 08, Series Spoilers, Simultaneous Orgasm, Threesome - M/M/M, Wincest - Freeform, Wincestiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Dean can think, as he stares at the blank expanse of smooth skin in front of him, is <i>G.I. Joe.</i></p><p>(Cas comes back junkless and the boys learn to make do.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Ken Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to Season 8 Episode 7.
> 
> I'm using this for the "castration" square on my homebrew bingo card.

Dean blinks five times before he lets himself focus on the face in the mirror.

 

Isn't it enough that purgatory had spit him out half-shattered and haunted? Now his own mind is playing tricks on him, showing him flashes of blue eyes and five-o'clock shadows everywhere he goes.

 

Dean's fingers itch as he grips them against the cold porcelain, tracing out a phantom scratch-scratch-pull of stubble against his skin. _Just close your eyes and count to ten..._

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

It's the flat banality of it that makes Dean's stomach curl up with a tremor of hope. He indulges himself, sliding his eyes over the reflected brow of not-Cas, the full, rough bow-curve of maybe-Cas' mouth, the wide blue eyes of it-can't-be-Cas, it can't be...

 

“Cas?” It comes out a broken syllable, too quiet to even bounce off the tiled walls as Dean turns and faces what he knows can't be real.

 

Dean's eyes have become liars, but his hands have never failed him. He fists two hands in Cas' ruined coat and backs him up against the wall, desperate for the cracked proof of Cas' lips against his, rough and real and it can't be, it can't be.

 

“I think we should alert Sam before he worries.” It's so sensible and straightforward, so _Cas_.

 

“You're really back.” Dean kisses him again and calls for his brother.

 

*

 

When Dean is finally able to stop kissing Cas long enough for Sam to say anything, they catch up around the crappy dinette in their motel room. Inasmuch as they can just “catch up” after purgatory chewed their angel up and spit him out looking like the world's handsomest hobo.

 

“I'm dirty.” Cas looks down at what's left of his clothing ruefully.

 

“Yeah, well, purgatory'll do that to you.” Dean gets up to follow Cas to the bathroom, like there's any chance he's letting Cas out of his sight, like he's not going to verify every dripping-wet inch of the body he's woken up aching for on so many nights, the empty space on his left side as Sam warmed his right and tried to hold him close enough to close the gap.

 

Sam leans back and nods his understanding. This is for Dean. Sam knows when to wait.

 

Cas has closed the door, something Dean pays no mind to as he lets himself in and pulls his shirt off over his head. Cas' bare back is to him, and Dean feels his dick stir to attention as he watches the lithe stretch of muscle under Cas' dirt-tanned skin. This isn't even about sex, not really, Dean's hard-on a conditioned response to the contact that he's craving, a more basic desire to touch, to feel, to reaffirm.

 

“God, Cas.” Dean molds himself to Cas' back, breathing in the rich, scalpey scent of his mussed hair because he knows it's the last time Cas will be this dirty, Dean won't let him get lost again. He'll clean Cas up until he's shiny-new and perfect.

 

“Dean, I...” Cas trails off as Dean slides his hands down Cas' stomach. He gets his thumbs into the waistband of Cas' hospital pants before Cas goes stiff and wriggles out of his arms, turning to face him.

 

“Dean, I … I have to tell you something.” Cas looks at a spot to the left of Dean's feet with unwavering intensity, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he nervously plucks at the elastic of his slacks.

 

“Cas, what's wrong?” Dean's running hands over him before he even realizes it, Cas' discomfort triggering some primordial caregiver need to find the ouchie and fix it asap. Dean feels his stomach sink when Cas flinches away from Dean's hand at his fly.

 

“Cas.” Dean tilts his own head until Cas has no choice but to look at him. “Did someone hurt you?” Dean digs his fingernails into the meat of his palm, quelling his rising anger. If anyone laid a hand on him...

 

“No, I'm not hurt, Dean, I'm just...” Cas rolls his eyes and presses his lips together. “I'm not … intact.” Cas bites his lip and slowly pulls his pants down, stepping out of them and standing back up with his eyes wide and a small frown on his face.

 

“Holy shit, Cas.” Dean sinks to his knees, clapping a hand over his mouth as he looks closer at Cas' … well, situation would be the best way describe it. Or maybe lack thereof.

 

Dean had never been big on action figures, preferring the streamlined Hot Wheels and Hess trucks his dad had erratically purchased for them. Sam, however, had loved his army men and action heroes, despite Dean's legally-required big brother teasing about playing with dolls.

 

All Dean can think, as he stares at the blank expanse of smooth skin in front of him, is _G.I. Joe._

 

“Cas, what the fuck happened?” Dean staggers back to his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face. It's still there, or, well, not there when he looks again. Cas has nothing between his legs, just pale, pristine flesh stretched taut above the V of his thighs.

 

“I no longer possess a pancreas as well.” Cas fidgets and moves his hands around awkwardly, resting them on his waist just to clasp them behind his back the next second.

 

“What about your, you know,” Dean makes a vague two-fingered hand gesture, unwilling for all his coarse humor and dirty jokes to ask if Cas still has an outbox.

 

“My asshole?” Dean can almost hear the sarcastic air-quotes dripping off that one. Cas narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That's missing as well.”

 

“Well, did you try to, you know, angel-mojo it back or something?” Dean's voice rises higher than he'd like, he doesn't want Cas to see how much he's panicking but surely, somehow they can fix this, right?

 

“Of course I tried that, Dean!” Cas uncrosses his arms just to throw them up in frustration. “I'd grown rather attached to my genitals, if you've forgotten. But I just,” Cas sighs and slumps his shoulders. “I can't do it, alright?”

 

“How – jesus fucking christ.” Dean sighs and leans against the cool tiles, his thoughts already a million miles outside of their room as he contemplates who could have done this, where they are, and how slowly Dean is going to kill them.

 

“Well, this has been sufficiently humiliating.” Cas pulls the shower curtain open with a screech of metal on metal as the rusted clips catch against the rail. He turns his back to Dean and steps into the shower.

 

“Cas, I'm sorry, I didn't … it's OK, alright? I just...”

 

Cas looks over his shoulder and meets Dean's eyes. “I think I'd like to be alone now, Dean.” His eyes are sad and worst of all, disappointed. “Please.”

 

“Yeah, ok, I'll just, uh, I'll be right outside, OK?” Cas doesn't answer him, just pulls the curtain shut and turns the water on.

 

Dean closes the bathroom door quietly, leaning against the door and knocking his head against the wooden frame. He knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he never thought he'd have to junk-check his angel.

 

*

 

“Like a Ken doll?” Sam bites his lip and winces, shaking his head as he pats Dean's hand. “You made that joke once, didn't you?”

 

Dean just glares at him, pulling his hand out from under Sam's to lean his elbows on the table and rest his head in his hands.

 

“And now he's mad at me for, you know,” Dean gestures back towards the bathroom, where Cas is still staunchly cloistered.

 

“Freaking the fuck out?” Sam arches an eyebrow and cuts Dean off as he starts to protest. “He's probably scared as shit, Dean, come on. He comes back missing the things that you were, well, always pretty vocal about. You think he's not gonna worry?”

 

Apparently when God or whoever the fuck was in charge of building angel-vessels made James Novak, they'd decided that being hung like a pornstar and possessed of the most gorgeous set of testicles Dean had ever seen was part of the package. Dean had never been shy about telling Cas exactly what he thought his best assets were.

 

“We all have to worry, Sam, we have to worry about who did this to him and finding them and making sure we have a remote, sound-proof room because I swear...” Dean curls his hand into a fist, smacking it against the table for emphasis.

 

“Dean, Cas is still an angel.” Sam scoots his chair closer, resting his hand on Dean's knee. “If he couldn't fix it, it might not be fixable.” Sam gives him the puppy eyes of patience, which should be annoyingly patronizing but instead just make Dean hunch his shoulders down and let out a long sigh.

 

“We don't need to worry about revenge, Dean, we need to worry about Cas.” Sam squeezes his knee reassuringly. “We just need to show him that he still has a place here.” Sam's hand slides up a little further, fingers trailing back and forth over the seam of Dean's jeans.

 

“He probably thinks you don't want to touch him any more. So you just have to show him,” Sam says softly, dragging his fingers up to roll them against Dean's interested bulge, “that you still want him.”

 

As far as ideas go, it's not Sam's worst.

 

*

 

It's all well and good for Dean to have grand plans of pinning Cas to the wall and showing him how very desired he still is, blank canvas and all. But life has other plans, like Dean should have expected something other than the usual angel bullshit and demon meddling.

 

When Kevin and Mama Tran are safely amidships Garth's houseboat (which had stunned him even more than Cas showing up neutered), they book it two states over before settling into two queens and a sly look from the MILF-ish motel owner. It's not like they ever have a perfect time to do these things, but Dean will settle for all concerned parties accounted for and no immediate threats to pick a romantic evening for the three of them.

 

Cas had kept his distance since his revelation to Dean, but no one could resist Dean's charm when he put his mind to it. He'd been wearing Cas down slowly but surely.

 

Like now, when he has his arm draped over Cas' shoulder, pizza slice folded neatly down the middle so he only needs one hand to eat. Sam's legs were taking up their usual thrice-normal amount of space on the couch, tangling over Cas' lap to rest his enormous Manimal feet on Dean's leg.

 

“I missed this.” Sam slumps down further, wriggling closer to Cas and letting one of his legs splay off towards the floor. “When you disappeared, this is what I missed the most, just us, you know, together.”

 

Dean swallows the last of his pizza and trails his fingers lazily over the smooth curve of Cas' collarbone. “Missed you so much, Cas.” It's not the sort of thing he'd normally say, but if Cas needs to hear it he'll act like a big girl and suck it up. He runs his finger up the side of Cas' neck, turning his head gently so Dean can lean in and kiss him.

 

Cas doesn't try to fight it, opening his mouth and sighing as Dean licks along the seam of his lips, soft in spite of all their chapstick jabs at Cas and god, has he missed this. Cas still feels tense under his hands, shoulders bunched up even as he leans into Dean's kiss, like he might freak and flap off to hide if they spook him.

 

Sam's weight anchors Cas to the couch and Dean makes the most of it, shifting onto his knees to kiss Cas deeper and run his hand up the tree-trunk that Sam calls a leg. “We both missed you, Cas,” Sam says softly, reaching out to trail his fingers up Cas' arm. Cas rolls his shoulders at the touch, moaning into Dean's mouth as he slowly relaxes. Dean's hand trails down his chest, palming over all the smooth planes of muscle that his fingers have ached for.

 

Dean knows it's risky, but he knows it has to happen, that Cas needs to feel it before he'll really believe it. He looks at Sam out of the corner of his eye, not breaking his kiss as he gives Sam an encouraging tilt of his head. Sam's always been good at this, knowing when to hold back and let Dean take the reins. Lead, follow or get out of the way and right now, Dean needs him to keep Cas kissed and calm.

 

Sam straightens himself so he can shift forward and nuzzle against Cas' neck, dragging his nose against the ever-present stubble on his jaw to kiss along the wing of bone. He keeps his leg draped over Cas', not so much pinning him as holding him fast as Dean slides a slow, deliberate hand in between Cas' legs.

 

He tenses, which Dean had expected, trying to cross his legs against the warm weight of Sam's knee. “I – I can't...” he splutters, eyes going wide as Dean slides his hand up and down against Cas' crotch, smooth but still hot to the touch. Dean shushes him and peppers his mouth with soft, brushing kisses, pressing his hand down firmly.

 

“Cas, it's OK.” Dean can hear Cas swallow, the soft click of his throat as Dean trails his lips along the flushed pink of Cas' ear. “I don't care if they sewed your head on backwards, I just want you back.”

 

Cas is still taut in between them, his body warring between relaxing into their attention and retreating from further scrutiny. It's a losing battle as Dean nudges Cas' head to turn against Sam's waiting mouth, rolling Cas' earlobe between his teeth as his brother and his angel kiss. They all sigh as Sam rests his own hand over Dean's, three different timbres running together into one satisfied, hungry sound as Sam cups Dean's knuckles firmly and grinds against them.

 

“Besides, there's still lots of stuff we can do.” Dean frees Cas' ear to turn his attention to Cas' neck, lapping over the tendon that strains each time he opens his mouth for Sam. He can feel the hum in Cas' throat as Sam slides his hand back up, slipping it under Cas' shirt to trace over the peaks of his nipples.

 

Dean deftly unbuckles Cas' belt and slides the zipper of his slacks down, reaching into the soft cotton of Cas' boxers to trace his fingers over the smooth skin, soft and warm to the touch. Dean isn't gentle, squeezing firmly as he grips an echoing hand into Cas' hair, because if it's part of Cas it belongs to all of them, and Dean will memorize every canvas-blank inch of it until he finds a way to make Cas feel good.

 

“We should get on the bed,” Cas say thickly, leaning his head back and resting his hand against Dean's thigh, holding Sam's shoulder in his other hand.

 

Dean starts to reply, but his “Fuck, yeah,” quickly devolves into a surprised _unf_ as he finds all three of them crowded onto one of the beds, naked and sprawled out legs akimbo without the structure of the couch to hold them up.

 

Chuckling, Dean wriggles back on the bed and pulls Cas with him, bringing him down for a kiss. Even if he couldn't get a hard-on anymore, Cas could clearly still get excited and whip out the heavenly special effects when he felt like it. Dean pulls back, leaning against the lumpy pillow and looking up at Cas with a heartened smile on his face. This is still his Cas, sensual and beautiful and strong, and even if Dean won't ever have all that power inside him again, it's worth it just to have him back.

 

Cas kisses Dean's neck as Sam's big hands slide all over the angel's back, trailing the blunt edges of his fingernails over Cas' pale skin and leaving ruddy wakes and shivers behind them. Cas starts to move down Dean's chest, kissing eagerly and arching his back into Sam's hands. He moans softly against Dean's skin as Dean slides a hand into his hair, arching his neck back at the expected encouragement as he makes his way down to Dean's cock. He makes another noise, softer, more surprised as Dean brings him back up and settles Cas beside him.

 

As much as he'd love to see those lips wrapped around his dick, now isn't the time. For all Dean's joking about how great it would be to date a mermaid (seriously, what else can they do but give head?),

he doesn't want Cas to feel like a third mouth and nothing more. Dean has no idea what Cas can feel down there, but that isn't gonna stop him from finding out.

 

Cas seems confused as Dean pulls him back to press his chest against the scratched-pink expanse of his angel's back, edging himself to the end of the bed so Sam has room to lay down against Cas' front. It doesn't keep Cas from grabbing whatever he can get to and gripping it firm enough to bruise, one hand on Dean's hip and the other finding Sam's shoulder.

 

Dean cants his hips back to give himself room as he thumbs over the wet head of his cock, smearing enough precome around to make it just a little sticky. Cas huffs in surprise as Dean reaches between his thighs, parting them enough to slot his dick up against the warm cleft of his ass.

 

“Used to do this with Sammy, when we were younger,” Dean murmurs into Cas' ear, reaching down to press his palm against the perfect hand-hold of Cas' hip. “Used to get each other off like this all the time.” Sam smiles and wriggles in closer, cupping Cas' cheek in his hand and kissing him softly as Dean rolls his hips and hisses at the catch-drag of Cas' skin against his cock.

 

Cas barely sweats, even when he's knee-deep in dead demons and angel ashes. Sometimes it makes Dean feel self-conscious, but right now he couldn't be happier because the dry pull of Cas' soft skin against the tender flesh of his cock is perfect, just this side of too much friction to make every slick drop of precome feel like a spine-tingling jolt as it spreads wet and cool against hot skin.

 

Dean can feel the firm press of Sam's hip against the back of his hand, holding Cas between them as his brother kisses their angel and murmurs a string of nonsense, _missed you, you're perfect, so fucking hot_ all lost against the wet rasp of their lips together.

 

Dean's breath comes out damp and warm against the curved knob of Cas' spine, condensing against his nostrils with the bright, clean scent of Cas, sea-salt and citrus and how many nights has Dean woken up with his nose in the pillow, trying to pull up the sense-memory of that half-forgotten scent. He drinks it in with every breath, Cas' skin sweet on his tongue as he pumps his hips faster and faster, the skin-slick slide of his dick against Cas' ass drumming out a wet tempo that Sam answers with deeper kisses until it's just sound, smell, sex and sensory overload and Dean's spilling out between Cas' clenched legs.

 

It's all the familiar off-kilter, half-floating jumble of limbs and mouths as Dean comes, pulsing hot and fast as his arm tingles, the skin on his shoulder burning and tender. It's almost like Cas' mark is throbbing back with every twitch of his dick, which doesn't make any sense because Cas isn't -

 

“Oh, Dean, oh, what's, oh.” Cas throws his head back, body taut and rigid as he claws at Sam and Dean like he's falling, like he's lost control and, fuck, like he's coming. His eyes are wide open and rolled back in his head, mouth parted open in a throaty whine, a face they've both seen a hundred times before. Dean's head is still fighting the sluggish haze of his orgasm, but Sam is looking back and forth between them like he should have a little light bulb glowing over his tousled mane of girl-hair.

 

When Cas sinks back against Dean and starts to breathe again, Dean leans up on his elbow, catching Sam's eye and creasing his eyebrows in confusion. He looks down at Cas, beatific and beaming at them as he draws in a ragged breath.

 

“Cas, did you just...?” Dean lays his hand over Cas' chest, holding him close and trying to fight the burgeoning hope in his own.

 

“I believe I just had an orgasm, yes.” The factual nod and everyday grit of Cas' voice is so familiar, the dead-pan delivery and flat directness having couched so many phrases and Cas-isms that always make Dean smile. His face splits into a grin as he looks at Sam, who's smiling like he just finished the New York Times Sunday crossword in an easy morning.

 

“It's your bond.” Sam flings his hand out, flicking his long fingers back and forth between Cas' flushed face and the five-fingered angel-brand on Dean's arm. “You're connected, so you share … you know, feelings.”

 

Dean's palms itch with the urge to tease Sam about _feelings_ and how it's nice to have at least one girl in bed with them, but he has more important things to deal with.

 

“Cas, can you, uh,” Dean smiles and pulls Cas' hand down to cup over his soft cock, “juice me back up?” Dean's eyes roll a little as Cas moans appreciatively and graces right over Dean's perfectly-normal but sometimes-pesky refractory period. Fuck it was good to have him back.

 

“Hey Sammy, wanna help me try a little experiment?” Sam had always liked science class.

 

Dean gets Cas settled back on the bed, laid out comfortable and fucking gorgeous with his legs spread wide, nothing to hide as Dean kisses the soft skin of his thighs. He lays a hand on either one, pushing Cas open and showing him that he needs to see, to touch, that Dean wants to take anything he has left and thank him for it a million times.

 

Twisting his body at the waist, Dean manages to maneuver himself until he can rest his cheek against Cas' hip. He looks up past the smooth expanse of Cas' stomach, eyes tracing over the faint sigil-scars that Dean knows more by touch than sight. Cas' eyes are wide, flitting between Dean's face and Sam's eager bulk as Sam gets on his knees by the bed and pillows his head in between Dean's thighs, all three of them resting on the other.

 

Dean shudders as Sam parts his lips and snakes his tongue out, flicking it one, two, three times through the wet slit of his cock. His lips barely brush over the head, breath hot and taking full advantage of Dean's predilection to leak like a goddamn faucet when he's stuck between the two of them. The graze of teeth makes Dean hiss, hips jerking forward of their own accord just the way Sam wants them to, because Sam is a sneaky fucking bitch who likes to tease Dean until he's half-crazy and desperate enough to throw caution aside and fuck Sam's face a pretty shade of red. Sam always knows how to get him off good, whether it's a quick and efficient handy in the backseat or the sort of blowjob that makes him see stars. The latter is clearly on Sam's agenda right now, and even if things haven't been perfect lately Sam's still on the same page when it comes to Cas. If they can make him come, they're gonna do it right.

 

Fighting his urge to throw his head back and grip his hands into Sam's fuck-handle hair, Dean looks up at Cas one last time and turns to nuzzle against the seam of his thigh, brushing his lips against warm skin. Dean can taste the salty remnants of his first go-round as he moves down, kitten-licking his way across the space once occupied by Cas' dark, soft hair. He closes his mouth over the curve of flesh that used to V down into Cas' dick, rolling his tongue to catch his own taste mingled with the soft trace of Cas' scent, softer now than it was before.

 

It's strange, lapping at nothing but smooth skin where there used to be so much for Dean's mouth to explore, but it's so much better than the empty space he's woken up next to for so many nights. It's like giving Cas a hickey, and Cas moans when Dean gently nips and sucks at the clearly-sensitive flesh, just like he does when Dean's at his neck. Dean feels a rewarding twitch of his cock at Cas' moan, knowing that Cas is enjoying this even more important than his own pleasure.

 

Sam's doing his level best to work Dean up to 11, spit dripping down the shaft of his cock to tickle his balls and trickle down the crack of his ass. Sam traces the pad of his finger around the furled skin of Dean's hole, pushing lightly just to draw it back again. Sam knows Dean'll shoot off the second Sam slips a finger in and Dean knows Sam's gonna wait until he's strung out and desperate for it.

 

It's Dean's turn to moan as he feels Cas' slender fingers run through his hair, palm firm and sure against the crown of his head as he pushes Dean an inch lower. It had taken months to coax Cas into taking the lead like this, reticence and his strange brand of chivalry staying his hand every time Dean went down on him. Dean had finally grabbed Cas' hands and held them there, showing him that it was OK, that he liked it better that way.

 

Dean's stomach tightens as Cas slides his hand against the short hairs at the back of Dean's head, warmth and the thrilling sense that they could get back to where they used to be building up with every enthusiastic press of Cas' hand. Dean's thighs are pressed against Sam's head, too far gone to care if he's being rough, Sam can take it, and Dean's close, groaning at the pleasant pinch of his nuts drawing up tight, if only Sam would do it, need something inside, Sammy, fucking do it, right there, yes, like that, come on, god, yes.

 

“ _Dean_.” Sandpaper-hoarse and surprised, Cas scrabbles a hand against the bedsheets and arches his back, fingers curling tight against Dean's head as they both come. Dean buries his face in the taut line of Cas' hip, grunting with each delicious, stomach-clenching pulse of his cock into Sam's mouth, each sound of his own echoed back by Cas' higher keen.

 

Dean's fighting for consciousness as he feels the bed dip beside him, Sam settling down next to Cas. His face is red and beaded with sweat, hair hanging in a damp, tangled mess. Dean lifts his head, heavy and foggy as it is, and makes to go take care of Sam because Dean is no angel, so he doesn't act like a dick in bed. Sam just shushes at him and holds up a shaky hand, turning it over so Dean can see the white trail running down his wrist.

 

“I'm good.” Sam smiles, eyes narrow and lips shiny, turning to look at Cas. “So I guess it worked?”

 

Cas just sighs contentedly, raking his fingers through Dean's hair and leaning his head against Sam's shoulder. “That was remarkable.”

 

They doze and snuggle for a while, with Dean not bothering to relinquish his head-rest on Cas' thigh. He manages to angle his body so he can poke Sam with his foot at irregular intervals, because no way is Dean letting Sam live down _sharing feelings_ any time soon. It makes sense, though, in a totally chick-flick way. They'd always been linked in some way, this was just a new one.

 

Dean's half-asleep when he thinks of something.

 

“Hey, Cas?” He knows Cas will be awake, their angel never really sleeping despite his insistence on staying when both brothers dozed off. Cas seems to enjoy just sitting there and sharing their warmth, staring placidly into space like a content cat.

 

“Yes, Dean?” His voice is thick and scratchy like it always is when he's sated and relaxed. It makes Dean smile just to hear it again.

 

“So, uh, if you can, you know, feel it when I...” Dean stops, feeling slightly bashful despite the fact that he's sprawled out on top of two naked men. He huffs out a breath against Cas' stomach and looks up at him, finding two sets of interested eyes watching him.

 

“Uh, this morning, did you...?” Dean trails off, thinking of his rise and shine date with his hand and a bar of soap.

 

Cas' eyes widen with understanding. “Of course, I should have known.” Cas smiles, broad and revelatory. “I thought the radio was just playing an exceptionally beautiful song.”

 

Sam snorts sleepily, snickering as he rolls onto his side and flings an arm and a leg over Cas. Dean sighs with the long-suffering patience of older brothers the world over and crawls up next to Cas, smooshing them all into the half-sprawl half-spoon required to fit two men and a Sam into a queen sized bed.

 

Dean's hand lays over Sam's across Cas' chest, their knees knocking together as Dean pulls the quilt up over the three of them. It's a little awkward, and it takes some adjustment, but in this, as in all things in their lives, they eventually find a way to make it work.

 


End file.
